Above the Fold
by Novi T. Foxtrot
Summary: A rewrite of what could have happened had Sorkin not left and Simon not died.  Alternative Universe: beginning with season three's finale.


**Title:** Above the Fold

**Author:** Novi T. Foxtrot

**Characters:** CJ centric, though the ensemble makes an appearance

**Spoilers:** Foreign and Domestic Enemies, Vera Wang, We Killed Yamamoto, Posse Commitatus.

**Summary:** A re-write of what would have happened had Sorkin not left and Simon not died. Alternative Universe: beginning with season three finale.

**Disclaimer:** Character rights belong to Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc. and John Wells Productions.

* * *

His hand firmly grasped the rounded metal door handle, its gold metallic paint worn from the many hands that had pulled open the glass door in pursuit of a pack of cigarettes or the milk they stopped to buy on their way home from work. On this night, the hand belonged to a man who desired a Milky Way bar. He regarded it as his reward for seeing the detail through to the end. After all, they had caught CJ's, Ms Cregg's, oh, hell he thought to himself, CJ's stalker in Trenton. And while CJ may have at times infuriated him and with, he admitted at least to himself, the attraction staring them both in the face, they both behaved like reasonable, mature adults. 

Who should expect otherwise? After all he was a Special Agent for the United States Secret Service, a retired officer in the Special Forces division of the United States' Army, graduate of West Point, and a former Chicago police officer, to boot. She was a direct counselor to the President of the United States and she was the White House Press Secretary. Their restrain at least deserved a Milky Way bar, he justified. Okay so the kiss had been a fabulous reward in and of itself, but the candy bar was going to hold him through the paperwork until he would see her again after the play.

Having not even taken two steps into the grocer at 98th and Broadway, his phone buzzed on his hip and he reached down to answer it with his customary "Simon Donovan."

"This is Mike Ta…" The rest of the response faded off into static.

Pressing the phone closer to his ear and mouth respectively, Simon asked "Hello?" Getting no response he turned to head back outside, "Can you hear me now?" Butterfield had told him to expect a call from the field agent in charge in Trenton and Simon wanted to hear firsthand about what had gone down.

"Agent Donovan?" The caller asked.

"Yeah, I'm here. Bad cell coverage, but I went back outside so it should be better."

"This is Mike Talansky, from the Secret Service office in Newark. Ron Butterfield told me to call."

"Yes. I was hoping you could fill in the details for me."

"At 8:44pm Secret Service and FBI agents boarded Amtrak train 138 in route from Washington DC to New York's Penn Station at the Amtrak station on Clinton Street in Trenton. Exercising a warrent, we arrested twenty year old Will Jacobsen originally from outside Philadelphia; he is currently a junior at American University. We arrived in Newark about 10:00 and I have been questioning him for the last hour and a half. I just got off the other line with Pam Thayer, in your DC office, about the profile and something isn't fitting here. Agent Donovan I don't think this is the guy you're looking for."

"Director Butterfield said you had the guy."

"We thought so. But the guy whom we arrested is from an upper-middle class family, no prior history, and he is an early education major. He claims no record of even knowing the president was in New York, claims that he was going up to see his girlfriend. I have spoken with her and I believe her. This isn't the type of guy who would be predisposed to become a stalker.

"Shit." Simon stated. "Hold him for now, I want to re-secure the protection detail and then I will be at your office in forty minutes. I want to talk to this kid myself."

Simon had barely snapped shut the phone before he had it open again and was dialing. "Butterfield this is Donovan. I just got off the line with Mike Talansky from the office in Newark. He thinks they have the wrong guy and I've got a protectee without direct protection and a stalker still on the loose. I'm heading back to the theater, do not let her leave the President's umbrella." Simon snapped shut his phone and hit the button on the Suburban's consol turning on the blue and red strobe lights built into the headlamps.

* * *

Closing the phone Ron Butterfield sighed. At this moment CJ Cregg was sitting securely in the President's box and while he realizing he could leave well enough alone at least until Agent Donovan arrived, he knew that this was his fault. He should have made sure all the Ts were crossed and all the Is dotted before releasing her detail. Informing her, he realized should be his own punishment. 

In the darkness of the theater, Ron Butterfield leaned across the seats of two people to tap CJ on the shoulder. She glanced up, clearly surprised to find Ron instead of Sam or Toby. Standing up she grabbed her black silk wrap and as she exited the theater into the light of the lobby, she attempted to wrap the fabric securely around her arms.

"CJ," Ron said. She listened quietly and attentively to Ron's explanation of the turn of events.

"Somebody's made a mistake. Simon was on the way to the field office to finish the paperwork." She says trying to rationalize her confusion.

"CJ, its not a mistake."

CJ brought her hand to her head. "I was standing right there when Simon got the call. They stopped his train in Trenton. He said they got his guy."

"We got the wrong guy, CJ. Sometimes we screw up."

"So he's still out there?" Ron nodded.

"I am ordering your detail be reinstated. Though it wasn't officially dissolved in the first place," Ron clarified. "Agent Donovan is on his way back here now."

CJ leaned against the mezzanine railing, trying to catch her breath.

"CJ? Are you alright? Can I get you anything?"

"I, ah… I, just need a moment." CJ said. For a couple hours tonight her world had righted itself and now in a matter of minutes it had been thrown upside down all over again.

* * *

Simon stopped next to Jamie, "She asked if she could get some fresh air." 

Simon nodded. "Good girl" he said under his breath. Jamie's mouth turned up in a barely traceable smile at the comment. "How long has she been out here?"

"Five minutes, maybe ten." Jamie said. "She's just stood there, hasn't moved."

Simon nodded, without saying anything more Simon moved to stand just beyond her turned back. After a moment, Simon made an executive decision; the currently unknown situation with the stalker overruled whatever moment CJ was having.

But before Simon had a chance to say anything, CJ quietly said "You came."

"CJ, you need to go back inside." He said gently.

"I just thought that maybe," CJ spoke slowly, her cadence exhibiting her vulnerability, "that maybe, I had dreamed the conversation with Ron and that you would be, here, waiting," CJ turned to face Simon, "for me."

"I know," Simon said, meeting her eyes, and acknowledging the unspoken fears that simmered under her cool exterior, "but CJ, _I_ need _you _to go back inside, now."

"Okay." She said. With Jamie leading the way, and Simon at her side CJ walked back towards the main entrance to the theater.

Simon opened the door for her, but part way through, CJ stopped and turned towards Simon. "What happens next?" She asked.

"You go back inside and enjoy the rest of the play."

"Like that's going to happen." CJ said snidely. Simon shot her a look. "I meant what's going to happen since they didn't catch my stalker."

"Jamie is going to be with you the rest of the evening, he will take you back to the hotel." Jamie nodded in acknowledgement towards CJ.

"And where are you going to be?" She asked. Before he could answer she continued rambling. "'cause I don't want to think that whatever happened earlier between us is going to affect… Because circumstances aside I really do like having you around, it makes me feel…" she continued to dig herself further into the hole and Simon found it rather endearing. "I guess it makes me feel safe… protected." CJ said shyly.

Not knowing how to respond beyond a soft smile, Simon changed the subject. "I have to drive to the Secret Service office in Newark." At her questioning glance he continued, "I want to question the guy they have in custody myself."

"'Cause they don't think the guy in custody is really my stalker?"

"No, he doesn't fit the profile."

"Maybe your profile is wrong." CJ stated.

"We're pretty good at this." He said to counter.

"Okay." She said giving in, not meaning her comment to come off as an insult about Simon or the Secret Service.

"Will I see you in the morning before we head back to DC?"

"I don't know. I may meet you in DC if I get held up here."

"Okay, well I'll see you later then." CJ said before turning and walking inside.

"You can count on it." Simon said as he let go of the door and allowed it to swing shut behind her.

CJ was sullen for the rest of the evening. Leo had even tried approaching her at one point, but she rebuked him saying, "All I want to do is my job, Leo. Can't we leave well enough alone?" Meanwhile, Donovan made the half-hour drive to Newark and his mood was no better than CJ's when he arrived back at the hotel around three. Having discarded his tie hours before, he managed to kick off his shoes before falling into bed.

* * *

The darkness was broken as monotones of sound rang through the air. The room was illuminated in a faint neon light as the electronic display flashed on the night table. The occupant of the adjacent bed turned over slowly. Stretching his hand out; feeling for the incessant devise. He cursed under his breath as the back of his hand made contact with it flinging it to the ground. Feeling for the lamp he ran his hand up the base. The lamp clicked over twice before finally catching; basking the hotel room in a harsh light. The man sat up in bed, pushing back the covers and sliding his feet over the side; propelling his body upward. He leaned forward spotting the pager and extending himself until it was in his grasp. As he sat up, his fingers hit a combination of keys from memory. He squinted, making out the sequence of numbers and letters. 202-555-5672. He reached for his cell phone; hitting speed dial one for the internal switchboard for the Secret Service Headquarters in Washington, DC. A cherry, automated voice greeted him. He interrupted her with the tonal sounds of extension 5672 on the keypad. 

The phone rang twice, then paused in the middle of the third ring as a receiver was lifted on the other end. "Electronic Monitoring," answered a familiar voice.

"This is Donovan; I was paged."

"Is this line secure?"

"Yes, Charlie-alpha-tango-two-three-echo." Simon spoke into the phone.

"Well, Simon, I must say that you sound chipper this morning."

"Brad, this better be good, because it is four-thirty and I just fell asleep not forty minutes ago."

"Then, I'll cut to the chase." He paused a moment. The rustling of papers could be heard in the background. "At 1:23, the server processed an incoming message to c-cregg-at-whitehouse-dot-gov. Just thought you would want to know, it came in with another piece of art. I thought you would want to see it."

"At 1:23?" Simon asked in confirmation that he had heard the time correctly.

"Yeah."

Simon sighed, as he whipped his free hand across his eyes, pushing himself out of bed and shuffled over to his laptop, sitting across the room on the desk. "Can you…?"

Brad cut him off. "Already did."

As he sat down he shifted the cell phone between his shoulder and chin, giving him a freehand to open the laptop. As Simon punched in the set of ten random numbers and letters, Simon thought about what the email meant. 1:23, the kid from Trenton had been in their custody until at least two; there was no way he could have sent the email. Opening his email program he selected the pertinent line item, double-clicking. He scanned the message.

"Dammit." Simon hissed under his breath. The language was definitely escalating, by a factor of 10 his mind sarcastically added. As he opened the attachment he suddenly understood why, the trigger was staring him in the face.

"It gets better though," Special Agent Bradley Price left hanging.

Simon sighed. "Really, You gonna tell me anytime soon?"

"At 2:12, he sent another email with the intent of wiping out the message on the server, which leads me to believe that he may have been sloppy. He resent it fourteen minutes ago. I just sent it upstairs for processing but we won't know more for a couple of hours."

"Anything else Price? 'Cause I have to go wake Ron up now and I don't think stalling will do me much good."

They said their goodbyes as Simon hit 'print' on the computer. He set the phone on the desk and went to splash water on his face, before dressing. Less than three and a half minutes later, the door to room 2714 clicked shut as the occupant walked down the hall towards the elevator. His face tilted downward staring at the picture he held in his hand.

* * *

Air Force One was scheduled to debart from Tetroboro at nine-thirty, following the President's breakfast with several major supporters who had attended the previous evening's fundraiser. 

While Simon didn't necessarily mind bringing CJ coffee, he did have alternative motives. After last night's incidents, they had a better profile of her stalker. While they had suspected he was male, mid-forties, educated, employed in the technology sector, and held a fascination with violence. They now knew his computer skills were highly advanced and they knew that his obsession of CJ had turned possessive. But what scared Simon more than either of those two things was that the stalker had been inside the President's umbrella last night. Apparently Simon's worries were not unfounded, because less than an hour earlier Ron had ordered CJ's detail to be doubled. Simon knew CJ was not going to be happy about it.

So he was going to break the news to her, but he was going to come bearing gifts first. He stopped at the Starbucks around the corner from the hotel, before knocking on her door. He knew she was scheduled for a 7 o'clock gaggle with the half asleep press corps and he was hoping to catch her prior to it.

So at 6:45, when CJ went to answer the knock at her hotel room door, she was surprised to find Simon on the other side.

"Venti, hazelnut, non-fat, extra foam latte," Simon said holding up the larger of the two Starbuck's cups in his hand.

"Thanks," she said reaching out appreciatively for the beverage. Simon liked his plain old, no frills and whistles, drip coffee, so it wasn't jut that he got her drink order perfect, but she knew he must have gone out of his way to get her the drink. She knew specifically because she had endured comments from the peanut gallery, every day for the last two and half weeks as she got her customary daily-caffeinated concoction.

"No problem." Simon said, smiling slightly. He was internally delighted to receive a smile back in return.

"Can I come in for a minute?" Simon asked.

"Sure." CJ said stepping back into the room. Her years in the pressroom had prepared her to the point where she was rarely blindsided anymore. She had an inkling about what Simon wanted to talk with her about and she wanted to head it off at the pass. If she was in control of the situation, she couldn't get hurt she reminded herself. So before Simon had a chance to speak CJ began, "I don't see how what happened between you and I last night should have any bearing on... after all it was just a kiss, right?"

"It was a good kiss, CJ." Simon said.

Her false bravado fell. "Yeah, it was." CJ said with a smile.

Simon smiled back, he wanted to lean in and kiss the smile off… No. Simon interrupted his train of thought. That is exactly what you can't be doing if you are going to continue to lead this detail, Simon admonished himself.

"Actually CJ, I needed to talk to you about something else."

"Oh, okay." CJ said acknowledging that he should explain.

"Ron Butterfield has ordered that your detail be enhanced."

"Enhanced, now that's not some euphemism for you saying you're off the detail, is it?"

"No, I am still leading the detail, just instead of it having four agents under me, Ron wants to double it to eight."

"Why?" CJ asked, one eyebrow rose slightly matching the inflection of her voice.

"While we thought we had your stalker in custody last night, the Secret Service intercepted another email." CJ's face which had moments ago been a light now was emotionless. "Not only did we have the wrong suspect in custody, the real stalker was at the play."

"He was at the play?" CJ asked.

"Yes." Simon answered he could see anger simmering in CJ's eyes.

"I don't get how you could think you arrested the stalker when in reality he was _still stalking me._" CJ said, her voice rising with the last couple of words.

"Because he wanted us to." Simon answered matter-of-factly.

"Explain." CJ ordered firmly.

So Simon did. "OPR traced the internet protocol address that corresponded to the latest email sent, and a warrant allowed us access to the corresponding internet account, which we traced back to a Mr. William Jacobsen, the man the Secret Service arrested in Trenton last night." Simon went on to explain how the Secret Service had cause to believe, though no definite proof yet, that in anticipating that the Secret Service would back-trace the IP address of any threatening email address, the stalker hacked into Amtrak records and procured a corresponding IP address of an electronic ticket sale for one William Jacobsen. He then utilized Mr. Jacobsen's home network as a router point; the equivalency of sending a letter through a third party.

CJ had followed most of what Simon had explained, "but that doesn't answer how you knew he was at the play. Did he say something in the email?"

"Remember last week, when you asked what we were doing to catch the guy?"

"The answer is like that?"

Simon nodded, "though I will tell you if you want to know."

CJ just shook her head no.

"Okay." Simon said, seeing a brief glimpse of worry pass over CJ's face. If he didn't have such confidence in his observation skills and ability to read people he probably would have second-guessed himself that he had even seen the worry to begin with.

"You know CJ," Simon said, "I have better incentive now to catch the guy."

CJ laughed and the sound was music to Simon's ears.

* * *

Three hours later, the plane had leveled off to its cruising altitude. CJ closed the door to the President's private office onboard leaving a silent Leo, the President and First Lady inside. CJ could see Toby hovering over Sam's shoulder in the conference room through the window in front of her. To her right, Simon sat by himself in the bank of chairs along the side of the hallway. CJ stopped for a moment, before taking the empty seat next to Simon. "I want to know." She had said after a moment. 

"I take it you're not one for surprises." Simon had said.

"As a matter of fact, I'm not." CJ had said.

"I hadn't figured _that _out." Simon had in acknowledgement, his tone laced in sarcasm.

"So are you going to tell me, or not?"

After a moment Simon turned to her, "Your stalker, he sends a photo a day, every day without fail. Mind you they might not have been taken on that particularly day, but we now intercept one daily."

"And today's was from last night, I take it."

"Yes, Ma'am." CJ glared, "I mean CJ."

"So he was there last night, big deal."

"It is a big deal CJ." Simon said sternly.

"He was in a secure perimeter, CJ."

"Then I guess it really wasn't secure then."

Definately not the reaction he was expecting Simon wasn't sure what pused him, maybe it was that he hoped to scare some sense into her, maybe he hoped he could cause her to take her protection detail a little more seriously, whatever it was Simon let the cat out of the box. "CJ, the photo he sent, it was of us kissing."

CJ didn't say anything, she wouldn't met his gaze. He had might as well have physcially slapped CJ himself, he thought at her expression.

"CJ…" Simon said gently as he lifted his hand to her chin, "I know..."

But CJ didn't let him continue, as soon as she felt his hand on her face, she met him with full force. "No you don't." CJ got up, fleeing his presence. Finally finding solace in the President's unoccupied personal suite. Simon had gotten up to follow her, not so much to talk to her or comfort her, but to guarantee that everyone else gave her space. Simon positioned himself outside the closed door, the President's seal to his back. No one was going to get through the door, not even the President, without going through him first.

* * *

**AN: **This story has been floating around in my head for a long while and though I am finally transcribing it out of my head and onto paper it is slow going. I will post more in the next week. I hope you enjoy. Novi. 


End file.
